


Thieves, Pirates and Cotton Candy Dreams

by BigBad_Wolfy



Category: Cross Epoch, Dragon Ball, One Piece
Genre: Bullying, Cross Epoch - Freeform, DBZ/OP Crossover, Dragonball/One Piece, F/M, Foul Language, If I tagged every single one of them I'd be giving away too much, Inspire by Jane Eyre, Many more DBZ/OP characters than I care to tag, Pachi Doujinshi, Sky Pirates, Space Pirates, Swearing, The Captain and the Theif, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBad_Wolfy/pseuds/BigBad_Wolfy
Summary: Inspired by Charlotte Brönte's Jane Eyre and written for The Prince and The Heiress literature challenge. My submission is a Cross Epoch DBZ/One piece cross over with additional inspiration from doujinshi by Pachi: The Captain and the Thief, and I'm Fine with You Captain. Future Trunks is not in this.As an Orphan Bulma has always known a dark and grey life of no frills and when she is adopted by Dr. Gero and brought aboard his ship things are no better among the strong and sometime cruel boys. Books and dreams of rivers of tea and cotton candy clouds are her only solace. She often wonders is there more out there than her unjust fate?





	1. The Asimov, for better or worse?

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be trying to incorporate DBZ characters into the expansive world of one piece. Hooray for the creative freedom of A/Us. I haven't seen very many OP eps.; I've mainly been reading the VIZ manga and I'm just now getting to the first arrival on Enis Lobby. I tried to fix as many mistakes as I could catch, but there are probably still some hiding in there. I don't yet have a beta reader. This, unlike most of my past submission, will be a multi-chapter story, so stay tuned for more to come! Please do leave kudos and comments if you enjoy this.

The library sat within the belly of Gero’s round ship, far below the bridge at its top, but not nearly as low as the engine room which hummed and rumbled the cold tiled floor on which she sat. In the brightest lit corner an incongruous slip of a girl lay nestled in a cocoon of blanket with a large book open before her. Soft folds of velvety red blanket contrasted against the icy blue-white tile like puddle of congealed blood on a glacier. The pages whispered their dry rasp as she turned them; her movement causing the mass of cloth to move like a heart pulsating to an infrequent beat.

So enveloped in her reading about the merits of pulsed fusion drive versus thermal fission drive she did not hear the _whoosh-click_ of the library door open then close. Nor did she hear the soft tapping of an approaching pair footsteps.

“Hey, Gin, look, I win. I’ve found Little Blue first,” drawled a gangly blond boy, “That means I get half your dinner rations!”

“Ha! Not a chance, play me a hand of cards I can win it back plus your entire portion,” replied the shorter purple skinned boy.

Bulma’s heart thudded against her chest. She had hoped that she’d at least be able to finish an entire chapter before Gin and Kenworth came looking for her. She sat up, blankets falling to her waist and clutched her book close; it was nearly as big as her torso. Her little blue brows slashed down as she mustered up as much of an angry look as her delicate features would allow.

“What do you two want?” She asked; her eyes flited to library door, behind the duo, mind attempting to work out an escape plan.

Kenworth sneered at her. “Stand up, squirt,” he demanded, haughtily.

Bulma shivered involuntarily and her lip trembled despite her glare. She knew what was coming and she could feel her eyes grow hot with held back tears. Gin snickered; his big ugly grin broke only when he took a sip from the flask he kept hidden in his coat pocket. Bulma knew that since Gin was only 15 he wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol, but she knew he often swiped it from Gero’s liquor cabinet and shared it with Kenworth, who was only 13. Both boys wore the smell of rum like cheap cologne. It was only 1800; normally they didn’t start imbibing until Gero retired for the night at around 2100.

Gin stuffed the flask back into his too large yellow coat’s pocket. If she weren’t at the moment being threatened she’d have a laugh at how comically large the baggy yellow garment looked on such a small boy. Despite having entered teen-hood three years prior he was the runt of the four boys Gero had adopted.

“Yeah, stand up, you snotty little runt.” Said Gin, always Kenworth’s echoing lackey.

Bulma clutched at the blanket, still holding fast to her book, and pushed off the floor and stood. The blanket was jerked from her grip as her feet pinned it to the floor. She yanked her empty hand close, wrapping it back around the tome, hugging it as if hoping to absorb its indifferent solidity into her own being. Kenworth reeled back and struck her with and open hand, sending her tottering back until she slipped on the blanket and landed hard on her tush. Her face burned and her eyes stung but she held back her tears. They howled shamelessly with laughter when she let loose a choked hiccup that escaped her resolve.

“Little Blue think she some kinda hard bitch taking yo’ cuff,” said Gin.  
“You best wipe that ornery look off yer face girl!” Kenworth warned. “I’m a little disappointed you don’t cry out like a struck little piggy anymore. Maybe I should hit you harder.”

Bulma swallowed, her eyes growing wide with fear. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she wasn’t as strong like the others. Kenworth was only one year older than her, but he was taller by a foot, which put him at 5’10. His black long-sleeved shirt draped across his rangy chest, while his olive green army pants clung to his narrow hips with what seemed to be no more than a prayer. He didn’t really hit as hard as he thought he did. Over time Bulma felt she had actually grown used to his strikes. She had less to worry about from Gin. He never bothered her unless he was with Kenworth. The purple boy was no bigger than she was, quite undersized for being a 15 year old.

Kenworth clenched the hand he had hit her with, just a hint of a wince crossing his visage. Bulma tried not flinch when he sneered and made a mock charge to strike again. The boys erupted with laughed when she squeezed her book a little tighter.

Kenworth reached up and removed his ratty Mackenzie Space Freighter hat and ran his fingers through his shoulder length white-blond hair before replacing the cap on his head.  
“What’s that stupid book yer reading anyway? That looks like too much book for a runt like you.” He snatched it from her grasp and tried to read the title, “Comprar- Compu- Conprairi-“  
‘Don’t hurt yourself you idiot,’ Bulma thought as she stood up.

“What is that shit?” Gin asked.

“She probably can’t even read it, she’s only 12. Probably likes to look at the pictures.” Kenworth leafed through page after page of engine diagrams.

“It’s called _Cayley’s Comparative Look at Nuclear Drives, Fourth Edition_. It’s the latest edition by the Shilton publishing company.” Bulma said.

Kenworth threw the book at her and she _oofed_ once as it hit her chest and again as she hit the floor. He spat on her.

“Those are the Doc’s books. Everything here belongs to the Doc,” he said, spreading his arms, motioning to the entire library. “What do you think yer gonna gain trying read highfalutin books like that?” Kenworth sneered at her. “You think the Doc is gonna favor a weakling like you, just cuz you can pretend to be smart and use then big ol' two-dollar words?”

“I’m not pretending!” Bulma yelled, “I really am smarter than you, in fact I’m smarter than all of you. You, Gin, Mojag and Axle combined.” She stood up and flung her book aside. Running to him in a fit of rage she threw her hands up in front of her and pushed him. He flew backward, crashing into a shelf. The shelf rattled but held firm due to the fasteners that kept it lashed to the wall; nonetheless books of all sizes rained down on the stunned teen, a few of them thumping him right in the skull. Gin stood dazed, eyes wide, wondering if he should run for it.

Kenworth scrambled to his feet, a rivulet of blood ran down his temple where the corner of a thick hardcover struck him. He reached up and touched it and stared it blankly as he smeared it between his fingertips.

“You little bitch!” He bellowed. He tried to scrabble off the pile of books but slipped as slick hardcovers slid past one another leaving him flat on his ass again. He roared at Bulma, “I’m gonna jerk a knot in yer tail, girlie!” He kicked books this way and that, and then yelled to Gin, who stood gaping stupidly at him, “Damn it, get her you damned stump!”

Gin hesitated but obediently ran for Bulma. Before she could even consider the gravity of her outburst she ran for the door hoping to make back to her own broom closet of a room and block the door before they got a hold of her.

She ducked around a free standing shelf and felt relief when she saw the door fully in her sights, but just as her fingertips brushed the open button she was yanked back and slammed to the floor. Her skull cracked against the tile and she saw stars behind her clenched eyes. This time she did cry out at the sharp pain.

“Hold her down, Gin!” Kenworth ordered.

Gin grabbed her thrashing feet and held them down with all of his weight, but she lashed and kicked and clipped him in the chin until Kenworth struck her cheek with closed fist. Her head whipped to the side from the blow. Kenworth reeled back to strike again and Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, never ceasing her flailing, desperately hoping to fling them off of her long enough to run for cover. The blow never came and a voice boomed overhead.

“What the devil in going on in here?” Dr. Gero grabbed Kenworth by the shirt scruff and yanked him of off Bulma. Gin bolted upright and jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, right one clutching possessively around his flask. He tried to sidle away but Gero wheeled around and smacked him in the back of the head, never losing hold of Kenworth’s scruff. Gin recoiled, trying to shield himself with his left hands but he was still pitched back a few steps and he grimaced as the blow smarted.

“Never mind!” Gero hollered, his deep scratchy voice reverberating off the ceiling. “I don’t care what was going on down here; just go back to your quarters, the both of you!” He flung Kenworth away toward the open door. Gin scrambled after him. Their footsteps disappeared down the hall as they ran for their barracks.

Gero eyed Bulma on the floor. She sat up, vigorously wiping her wet eyes with the back of her forearm. In the deepest heart of her heart she held on to the hope that the doctor would gather her in a fatherly embrace and coax her with soothing words as he wiped away her tears. But nothing of the like came. When Bulma stood he marched toward the back shelves. Fear glued her feet to the floor, leaving her to stand in silent waiting. When she heard the doctor’s disapproving grunt she knew he must have seen the mess of toppled volumes. His shoes clapped on the tile as he returned; now carrying a small stack of books. He stopped at the door, but did not turn to look at Bulma. The absence of his acknowledgment left her feeling small. But still she wished she was smaller yet, so small that she could run away and hide amongst the giant books like a mouse, small enough to go unnoticed, and so quiet that no one would ever know she was there.

Gero spoke, firmly, “I expect you to re-shelve all these books accordingly before you retire to your quarters for the night. Just as those two impudent brats, you shall not have your morning rations.”  
_Whoosh-click_ , and then she was there alone. The tears came in a deluge as she sunk to the floor, hiccupping with silent sobs.  
.  
.  
It was well past 0 hour when Bulma slipped all but the last book into place. She hugged her copy of _Cayley’s Comparative Look at Nuclear Drives_ as she shuffled out of the library and past the elevator foyer, her steps echoing off the cold metallic walls. During the “night-time” hours all light in the ship dimmed to their lowest settings to conserve energy as well as to simulate an Earth night and day cycle. Lending to the creepy atmosphere of the quiet late “night” her shadow slinked along behind her, drawn out like a dark phantom waiting for the right moment to pounce. She wasn’t normally afraid of the night; she had spent many of them awake and alone with her own thoughts as she lay in her cot in the dark of the orphanage bunk room. Creaking bed springs, snores and the constant groans and shifting of the old rickety building had dulled her sense of fear for the supernatural. It helped that she had always been a natural born skeptic. There was always a reasonable answer for why things were the way they were.

At this time of the night only the constant hum of the ship kept her company as she trudged back to her room, her eyes still burning with shed tears and now with weariness. She knew there were no ghosts waiting to spring from the shadows to grab her and pull her into oblivion. What she feared was real. She was afraid of Kenworth. The boy hated her from the moment Gero brought her from the orphanage back to his ship, the Asimov. By extension she was also a little fearful of Gin. The little liquor thieving runt was Kenworth’s toady and would agree to do whatever the taller but younger boy asked him to.

Time and again she found herself wondering: if there was always a reasonable answer for everything, then why did Kenworth always torment her? They had all come from orphanages or off the streets; all of them except for the tall red-head, Axle, that is, who was Gero’s son. She didn’t have a problem with 16 year old Axle though, nor with 14 year old Mojag, the big wingless Shandian. The one thing all the boys had in common was their strength. Even Gin, would eventually become stronger than Bulma when puberty finally hit him like it did the other boys. That would then leave Bulma to be the black sheep, the one who didn’t belong, but was inexplicably there among them.

Shifting her tome and folded blanket in her arms she reached out and pressed the open button to her room, the janitorial closet. Her bed took up most of the floor space of the repurposed closet. Shelves lined the walls from waist high to ceiling except for a vertical cubby for brooms, mop and vacuum wand, just to right of the door. She crawled in to bed, which was no more than a worn futon laid atop empty crates. The door closed behind her, no additional whirrs denoted locks engaging. Janitorial closets didn’t need to lock from the inside. She ambled up, standing on the creaky crate-bed to lay her book on the top-most shelf which she reserved for her meager belongings, and then settled in sighing as she wrapped her fuzzy red blanket around her.

Although her thoughts rattled around endlessly, it wasn’t long before sleep carried her away to dreams of cake as big as mountains, rivers of tea and cotton candy clouds and of a dark prince whose face she could not see.  
.  
.  
Morning had come too soon she thought as she shivered, reaching for her blanket. The desired object eluded her search and she groaned when she realized she had kicked it into the crevice between the crates and wall. With no breakfast waiting for her she figured she may as well start with the day’s chores to keep her occupied until lunch.

The door opened before she could reach the command button.

“Good morning Little Blue,” Kenworth taunted.

Wielding an arm-length metal pipe like a hockey goalie, Gin snickered through a toothy leer. Bulma stiffened in fear, but quickly dismissed the notion of them coming to that level of violence. Surely it was only for intimidation. They would be so stupid. Would they?

“Excuse me.” Bulma attempted to push pass them only to be pushed back onto her crate-bed.

“If we don’t get morning rations then neither do you,” Kenworth sneered, not knowing such had already been denied her.

“You can’t lock me in her here,” said Bulma, defiantly, “the door doesn’t lock anyway.”

“Just watch me!”

The door shut again and from the outside she could hear the crunch of metal. Bulma scrambled to hit the open button but nothing happened. She pressed it again and a spark bit her fist as she pounded causing her to jerk back. She flew at the door and pummeled it with both fists, shouting at the top of her lungs, “Let me out, let me out, let me out!”

Bulma kicked but made no dent. She grabbed the first weapon handy, a broom, and whacked the door relentlessly until the wood handle snapped. She pivoted to grab another but stopped, thinking that it wouldn’t help her situation to break any more cleaning implements. Nothing in the room was strong enough to break down the door, and even if she had a stout enough weapon her own strength was inadequate.

“It’s not fair!” She screamed to the surrounding cleaning supplies, her only listeners, for certainly Kenworth and Gin didn’t hear her. “It’s not fair!” She screamed again and again until her throat felt raw. She curled up piteously on her crate-bed, her cries coming in soft sobs, “It’s not fair. Why do I have to be so weak?”

She whimpered until she fell asleep again.  
.  
.  
A bright flash of light blinded her and a pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders shaking her awake. Bleary-eyed she jerked back, but when her eyes adjusted she was greeted by the Doctor’s mustached face, rather than a nightmare beast or worse yet, Kenworth.

“What the devil have you gotten yourself into now?” Gero demanded.

Bulma was flooded with all of the pent up indignity that had been building inside her since her first encounters with Kenworth. Tears threatened to spill again from her eyes. She was beginning to feel that soon she might run out of tears to cry. She didn’t know where to begin, her eyes burned and her stomach ached from emptiness but most painful of all her heart throbbed with the inability to fully understand the injustice of it all and how she might remedy her situation.

“Speak child,” the Doctor ordered as he gave her a shake.

“It was Gin and Kenworth, they did this to me. They locked me in this closet and they hit me last night. They always do! Why? Why do they always torment me? What have I done to them? Why do I have to be so weak?” Bulma cried, her words crashing and flowing like deluge, the dam of her pent up feelings bursting to splinters. Shamelessly she threw her arms around the Doctor and sobbed, but no reassuring hug was returned. No gentle coos to quell her weeping came, just the same as the night before. She pulled away from Gero, her cheeks flush with embarrassment and burning hot with emotion.

Gero’s face gave no clues to his thoughts, or weather her emotions moved him in any way.

“I see.” He said. He stepped back, eyed the room, noting the broken broom and the reek of urine from the mop bucket. When his flinty stare returned to the small blue-haired child he said, “Your dinner rations are in the galley, you may have them after you have cleaned this room.” And then he walked away.

Bulma sat. All of her anger and grief had culminated into a conflagration that pushed her strike out at her tormentor and then seek solace her cold benefactor, only to leave her doused, shamed and none of her questions answered. In fact it left her with new questions. Why was she here? Could her entire purpose be just to endure unearned punishment for the rest of her corporeal life? Was she only an outlet for the strong to take out their frustrations? Was there more to life? In her all of her years at the orphanage she had known nothing but hunger, cold, and harsh discipline. In her few months with Gero things only seemed marginally better until Kenworth made it his purpose in life to provoke her.

Bulma wiped away the tears on her shirtdress sleeve and sniffled. “I promise to become strong. This can’t be all there is. I want to live and find my purpose. I will not be weak anymore and I will never cry again!”


	2. Of Birds and Pirates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to set a schedule for posting chapters. They'll come when they come.  
> I now have a beta reader, yay! Go check out Froglady15, if you haven't already, she's got some great VegeBul for ya.

The week following the broom closet incident passed with little more drama than dirty looks and rude finger gestures from Kenworth and Gin. Bulma was surprised and thought that Gero must have chastised the boys severely enough to deter them from directly harassing her, for the time being. From that moment forward she did her best to keep a close watch on where the two were when she made her treks down the hall to the ship’s library.

There weren’t many places for them to hide. Only the Doctor and his corpulent first mate, Pierro, had access to the engine room and bridge, thus eliminating the top and bottom levels of the large, spherical Asimov as scenes of mischief. The labs and the bi-level cargo and ship bays took up the entire third deck. Gero alone had unlimited access to the labs, and only occasionally did she ever hear of Pierro accompanying Gero.

Early on Bulma had discovered that the four boys underwent some sort of training on the ship bay. These classes were headed by Pierro. While her curiosity about these gatherings often nibbled at her brain, Bulma was glad that her presence was not yet required.

The second deck served as the main living quarters; it housed crew barracks, officers’ rooms, galley and head. The elevator shaft acted as the Asimov’s spine, girded by a spiral stair case; together they ran top to bottom giving access to all decks, passcodes notwithstanding. On the main deck access to the elevator and stairway was gained by way of a wedge of foyer that opened into a hall that encircled the entire second level. On each side of the hall rooms wrapped around. Across from the elevator was the janitorial closet-cum-Bulma’s room.

The library took nearly a quarter of the outer circle, followed by three crew barracks, each with two beds. The innards of the barracks closest to the library remained a mystery as it was always locked. The following two barracks served two boys each, Gin and Kenworth in one and Mojag and Axle in the other. After that were two officer’s quarters, Pierro’s and Gero’s, and then back around to the janitorial closet. The inner set of rooms were divided into four sections not counting the elevator foyer. There was a small laundry, which also contained water storage, heater and filtration, and there was an adequately sized bathroom with room enough for a shower, toilet and linen cabinet.

The galley took up most of the inner circle; it was split into to two rooms, a dining area divided by a wall of cabinets and open portal that led to a kitchen. Bulma had yet to see anyone use the kitchen. Meals mostly consisted of prepackaged, re-heatable fare kept stored in a large industrial refrigerator. If one needed a change of cuisine there were always the MREs in the dining room cupboards.

Bulma’s main chores consisted of keeping many of the rooms clean, and washing the linen. Each boy was responsible for washing his own clothing and replacing, his bedsheets with clean ones from the bathroom linen cabinet. Pierro made sure that no one shirked their chores, as it was part of whatever training regime they followed. Whenever the boys displeased Gero or Pierro, in any way, kitchen and bathroom cleaning duties became their punishments; more often than not this fell on Kenworth and Gin. Bulma loved those days best. It meant she could afford extra time in the library, which is where she was at the moment.

She jumped automatically at the telltale whoosh of the door and her attention bolted up from her book to see that it was only Axle who lumbered in.

“Father says we are to gather at the bridge and ready for our trip Earth-side,” he stated plainly.

“Oh,” Bulma replied, sighing as her heart calmed. She knew better than to react so when her tormentors were busy scrubbing the toilet and shower.

“What is that?” Axle asked, pointing to the book in her lap, “it’s very pretty.”

Bulma’s head tilted in wonder at Axle’s interest in her book. “How long until we have to be at the bridge?” she asked.

“Father said we were to leave no later than 0930.”

Bulma glanced at the digital clock over the library door, it was only 0859. There was a bit of time. She patted the floor next to next to her inviting Axle to sit. “You can’t really appreciate these pictures from way up there, have a seat.”

Axle seemed a bit confused; his thick red brows knitted but the vibrant blue creatures on the page drew his attention. He trundled closer and settled his bulk next to Bulma. From his closer vantage point he could better see the blue thing was shiny like a gem and that its wings were nothing more than blue blurs. It hovered in front of a deep crimson flower and looked like it was drinking from the bloom with its shiny black beak and tongue.

“It’s a bird,” he stated, “a very shiny bird.”

Bulma smiled and she pointed to the text as she told him, “This is a Blue Jeweled Hummingbird. It’s a very rare species on Earth. They are also called Ocean Jewels because of their shimmering aqua color and because they used to be found all along the various East Blue coasts.”

Axle held a corner of the book and pulled it this way and that, causing the bright overhead light to shine off of the glossy page. Bulma giggled, at the idea that he might have thought he could make the light shimmer on the hummingbird’s jewel-toned feathers.

“It’s very beautiful,” Axle said, “tell me more.”

Bulma looked at him and said, “Perhaps you should take this book for a closer study on your own time. Can you not read?”

Axle only shook his head. She was reminded of what she had said to Kenworth last week in her anger, that she was smarter than all of the boys combined. She felt bad for making such a boast, even if it was true. She pointed to the text again as she spoke, “This says that Blue Jeweled Hummingbirds are solitary and they drink nectar from flowers as their sole food source.”

“What is solitary?”

“It likes to remain by itself.”

“Oh,” he said, coming to a realization. “It’s like you.”

Bulma looked up at him, fully taking in his appearance for the first time. At 16, Axle looked much like a grown man. He had a strong jawline, prominent chin and defined high cheek bones, the latter being a trait he inherited from his father. For reasons unknown to Bulma, Axle seem to keep the sides of his head shaved, leaving his unruly red hair to stand in a wild mohawk. He was the oldest boy in the group but he seemed simpler and more innocent when compared to the younger Gin or Kenworth or even the stoic and statue-like Mojag. Axle was just as big Mojag, but while she held only a hint of apprehension for the quiet Shandian she did not feel at all threatened by Axle. His eyes gave no suggestion of insult, they were soft at the corners and the sapphire blue shone benignly under the florescence. They did not carry the same icy tone as Pierro’s or the precocious cageyness in Kenworth’s.

Bulma smiled, she couldn’t help it. He was so nice, compared to anyone else she had met up to that point. “How do you mean,” she asked.

“You are always here in the library by yourself.”

Her smile melted away at the realization that he had noticed that. She didn’t think anyone other than her tormentors watched her so.

“It’s not because I want to,” Bulma replied, after silent consideration. “I used to talk to some of the girls at the orphanage, and we used to play in the yard. We might have even been friends. I don’t have friends here.”

“You can talk to me. You can teach me how to read so that I can learn about birds.” Axle offered.

A warmth flooded her chest and her vision threatened to blur. Last week she promised she would not cry any more but she never thought a flood of happiness at an unlikely offer of friendship would cause her to want to cry. She quickly shook the feeling off, not wanting to fail at keeping her own promise. She beamed up at Axle. “I would like that.”

Heavy footsteps approached the open door. It was Mojag. He paid a quick acknowledging glance to Bulma before turning to Axle. With a quick jerk of his head he indicated that it was time to go. Axle pulled his bulk up of the floor as Bulma scramble to her own feet. She quickly put the book back in its place and trotted after the two large boys, suddenly feeling a spring to her step.

.  
.

Every few weeks Gero would make a resupply trip to Earth. The Asimov was always left in orbit, while the entire crew packed into the escape pod, which doubled as a shuttle pod during these trips. The shuttle was a large rounded rectangle with seating for 10, two bench seats and one seat each for pilot and co-pilot. A narrow walkway encircled the bench seats. At the back of the shuttle was an emergency toilet, a small storage closet and the narrow hatch that allowed entry and exit.

After going through the motions of landing protocol the shuttle touched down and everyone exited. On previous trips, she had kept close to the Doctor, but today she felt more comfortable staying near Axle. 

Outside the space port, they took a narrow-gauge train, with open air cars. Wind blowing through her blue hair, Bulma watched as the town seemed to sprout up from the rolling hills. The train dipped and peaked; some spots making her feel like her stomach was flip-flopping inside her belly, like it was doing loop-de-loops. ‘Oh,’ she thought, ‘if only this train could do loops. That would really be fun!’

Too soon train stopped at the station, and everyone disembarked, bringing an end to her short lived amusement and carrying her back to the present. Gero cast a look to Pierro, who gave a slight nod in return. The Doctor then turned to Axle and Mojag. “You have the list of needed supplies. We shall return to the shuttle in one hour’s time.

“Tardiness will not be tolerated,” he then said to Gin and Kenworth, his voice cold, and his eyes like flinty chips of ice, indicating the he brooked no insolence from them.

The boys nodded in understanding and nothing more was said as the Doctor and Pierro strode away to a stand of horse drawn taxis. As soon as their carriage pulled away, Gin and Kenworth ran down the street faster than a pair of escaped jailbirds.

“See ya’ suckas!” Gin yelled.

“Don’t y’all wait up.” Kenworth jeered.

They soon melted into crowd.

Half an hour later Bulma helped the taller boys carry boxes back to the station, each stack as tall as she was. Setting down her last parcel, Bulma absently wished there was an easier way to transport heavy things.  
“Are we done with resupplying?” She asked Axle.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go to book store, it’s just over there!” She said excitedly. She had seen the bookstore sign on previous trips but always opted to stay close to station lest she get left behind. If that happened she’d be left on the streets to fend for herself. “There is still a half hour until the Doctor comes back. Please,” she pleaded, “I have some money saved up from when I was still at the orphanage. The store is right here in the square.” She beamed up at Axle, her little hands folded in front of her, beseechingly.

Mojag, shrugged. “I will stay,” he said to Axle.

Axle nodded. Bulma jumped and squealed in delight, something she hadn’t done in months and then took off, weaving her way through the crowd with Axle on her heels keeping up with the excited child with his long strides.

An overhead bell jingled as she pushed open the door. Axle ducked in behind her. For a moment she stood, frozen in awe at the sight of so many books she had yet to read. The shop seemed to be larger on the inside than it looked from the outside; it was even bigger than Gero’s library! Books filled floor to ceiling shelves, rows of selves in between gave the place a labyrinthine feel and Bulma could see herself getting lost in this real life dreamland forever. The mustiness of old tomes mingled with the perfume of new books and she found herself inhaling the scent.

“I don’t know where to start!” she exclaimed, more to herself than to Axle, who stood like a statue behind her.

“Children’s books are this way, my dear,” said a slender man with fuzzy, brown teddy bear ears. He bowed at the waist and introduced himself, “I am Libroso, welcome to Southey’s Book Emporium.” 

“Where are the science books, sir?” Bulma asked, trying to tamp down her excitement as it threatened to bubble over.

“Science?” Libroso, asked, his brows, which were just as fuzzy as his ears, rising high and crinkling his forehead.

“Yes, sir. I especially love to read about space craft engineering.”

“Eh, engineering,” the shopkeeper sputtered, “right over her, eh, miss-“

“Bulma. Bulma Briefs,” she said as she curtsied in her worn, pink shirt dress.

Libroso eyed her suspiciously but led the precocious girl to the science shelf anyway.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying, my dear, but your name sounds very familiar.” He pulled up a rolling ladder, offering it to Bulma. Just then the bell jingled, alerting him to another potential customer. “Excuse me, dear. Just call if you need help.” And then he dashed away.

“There are so many!” Bulma said in reverence as she read title after title, pondering which one she wanted. All of them. She wanted all of them!

“There isn’t much time. Father will be back soon,” warned Axle.

“I- I can’t choose.” Indecision burst the bubble of her wonder. She chewed on her lower lip, as her eye darted from title to title, the need to hurry blinded her from absorbing the names she read on spines. “Um. Maybe next time there will be time. Let’s just go,” she said, crestfallen, as she hopped off the rolling ladder. She plodded toward the exit.

At the front counter Libroso unpacked new books that had just been delivered. “Going so soon?”

“Yes, sir. There are so many and I don’t have time to choose just one.” The book in his hand caught her eye, on it was a picture of what looked like a wooden boat with big billowing sails but rather than ensconced in water it hover in the sky among mountains and clouds. “What is that book?”

Libroso lifted the book over the counter and held it out to her. “Have a look.”

Bulma leafed through the pages. “Are these real?”

“Absolutely- eh, in theory. I’ve never actually seen an air ship. The is no shortage of Marine ships in the harbor, however.”

Axle asked, “Are there pirate ships?”

“Pirates!” Libroso exclaimed, “Oh, dear me, no.” There hasn’t been a pirate foolish enough to dock in Korin Bay in years, not with the new Marine base here.”

“What is a Marine?”

“What is a Marine?” Libroso repeated in shock. “My dear, where have you been for the last 12 years? Living at the bottom of the ocean?” He hustled over to a shelf. Finding just what he was looking for he plucked out a heavy looking book. “If you are the avid reader you claim to be I think a good general history book is in order. This is the latest edition; it arrived just last week.” He handed the heavy volume over.

“I’ll take the both.” Bulma said, “how much are they?”

“150 Zeni for both.”

“150?!” Bulma said, shocked. “I only have 5.”

Axle thrust a cred chip under the shopkeeper’s nose, “Do you take Inter Galactic Credits?”

“Oh, Axle, you don’t-“

“Don’t worry about it, Bulma. I could never use it all anyway.”

“Of course,” said the shopkeeper, “The computer can automatically calculate the exchange rate. That’s the wonderful thing about being located in a bustling International port town,” he prattled as he scanned the books and then cred chip, “We accept Zeni, IGC and Berries.” He handed the books back to Bulma. “Why the only thing we don’t accept as payment are souls!”

Libroso, rung up the purchases and handed a receipt to Axle. “Thank you so much for your patronage. Enjoy your reading and please come again.”

Axle turned swiftly, bell jingling at the opening door. Bulma ran after him, hugging her new books close, “Bye,” she called out to the shopkeeper.

At the platform Mojag had begun loading boxes into a train car, Gin and Kenworth sat in their seats, hunched down as far as they could go, looking as if they were hiding from something. Axle opened a box, and motioned for Bulma to put her books inside. She obeyed. He folded the flaps back down and smoothed the packing tape back into place.

It wasn’t long before horse drawn carriage pulled up to the train station and Gero and Pierro exited, each now carrying black, hard sided cases.

“Yo, c’mon on already, let’s jet!” complained Gin as he and Kenworth glanced nervously over the edge of the rail car. Bulma could she the purple weasel now donned a new pair of sunglasses, pretentiously large and yellow. Somewhere during the space of an hour Kenworth had traded out his old Mackenzie hat for a new Freighter Line hat.

Neither Gero nor Pierro acknowledged them as they loaded their newly acquired luggage. Axle helped Mojag set the last boxes in place, then boarded. Sitting next to Axle, Bulma buzzed on the inside over her new books, as the train set off, back to the space port.

.  
.

“Okay, now read it to me,” Bulma tilted the book toward Axle. He took it.

She watched him as he worked over the words silently, furrowing his red brows. They wiggled and twitched like fuzzy crimson caterpillars, quite an amusing sight to behold on his long and lean face.

Axle read, haltingly, “Scientists have been studying ways to improve the Ocean Jewel’s declining population. Just off Dragon Island’s mainland on the Papaya Islands a stable, breeding population has been established.” He moved his large finger across the page as he read, pausing now and again to draw a breath. “When numbers have increased to projected levels it is hoped that the Ocean Jewel can be reintroduced along the coasts of the Red Line, where they once flourished.”

“That’s good, Axle,” Bulma gushed. She really was impressed with how quickly he improved. She discovered that he already knew the alphabet and could read very simple words. What he really lacked was practice and a subject he was interested in. Axle smiled, it was real, genuine, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The warmth of it filled Bulma with hope, and she smiled back at him. She spoke before she could think better or it. “Why can’t all of you be so nice?” She asked, frowning.

“All of us?”

“I mean Kenworth and Gin, maybe not Mojag. I have no ill feelings for him. He never says anything to me, so can’t really judge him.”

“I thought you were friends with them too?” Axle asked. The word friend came out sounding funny, like someone using a new bit of foreign vocabulary they were not yet used to.

“What would make you think that?” Bulma asked, horrorstruck.

“You spar with them, and you talk to them.”

“Hitting me and locking me in my room is not what friends do!”

“I spar with Mojag.” Axle offered.

“What is sparring?”

“We practice fighting.”

“Oh. Is that what you guys do when you all go into the ship bay?”

“Yes. We are also learning how to use the weapons and the attack craft. Father says that when you old enough you will too.”

Bulma’s eyes widened in surprise at Axle’s revelation. Her mind turned this news over and over, trying understanding what that meant. Weapons? Attack craft?

Before she could ask any of the questions that had begun forming in her mind Axle spoke again.

“I can teach you to fight, in exchange for teaching me to read.”

“I don’t know if,” Bulma started, but trailed off, remembering the promise she made to herself. “Even if I learned how to fight, I would still be too weak. How can I become stronger?

“I don’t know how to help you with that, but I can teach you to defend yourself.”

Bulma looked at him, taking in his sincerity.

“Alright.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“You don’t like it here, right.”

Bulma was surprised, again, at his insight. Guilt nibbled at her conscience again at her earlier misjudgment of him. She wasn’t sure if she should answer him truthfully. “No.” She said, hesitating. “I guess I don’t.”

“Then why don’t you run away?”

Run away? The thought never really occurred to her. If she ran away where would she go? How would she get off the ship, or eat, where would she sleep?

When she did not answer, Axle spoke again, “Kenworth and Gin have done it.”

“They have?” Bulma asked, stunned. “Why are they still here? Did the doctor bring them back?”

Axle absently flipped through the pages of the book as he spoke. “This book said that most birds are wild and they live on their own. It also said that there are kept birds, birds that only live in cages. We are all like those kept birds and the ship is our cage. Sometimes a bird will fly away if the door is left open. A trained bird will return.” He pointed to a hawk perched on a stout man’s gloved arm. “Father is training us to be like this hawk.

Gin and Kenworth ran away, last year, when we were on Earth. We left them there for a month. When we returned to resupply they met us at the space port and begged father to take them back. They were already street urchins when father adopted them three years ago. When they returned to the street it wasn’t the same. Or maybe it was, and they got used to living with us. Father is harsh in his discipline but at least we are safe here.”

Bulma listened in awe. When he had finished she asked, “You say that the Doctor is training us. What for?”

“We are pirates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering:
> 
> I had to come back and add this. I didn't give much thought to the Berry/Intergalactic Credit(IGC, Cred or Credit/Zeni exchange rate. After reviewing sources, after posting this chapter, I've learned the Berry is about the same as a Japanese Yen, the same can be said of the Zeni. I've decided to make them different values since I have the Dragon World existing in the One Piece World as Dragon Island as it's own country. The Cred/IGC has flexibility in that it's a non-standardized fan fiction currency. For the purposes of this fic the exchange rate is as follows: 22500 Berry = 225 IGC = 150 Zeni or 150 Berry = 1.50 IGC = 1 Zeni
> 
> Pretty easy. I like easy, since I'm not a math whiz.


	3. Stale History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta Froglady15!

Bulma plopped down onto the floor with a heavy sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"You did good," Axle said, smiling at the worn out girl.

"Yeah, I think I can feel myself getting stronger," Bulma replied. She looked down at her worn dress and frowned. "I don't think my dress is going to survive many more of these training sessions. Hey, how are Gin and Kenworth able to buy new clothes and the other things?"

"They steal them."

"Steal?" Bulma asked, astonished, "the Doctor allows it?"

"Father doesn't really care what they do as long as they don't get caught."

Axle's face was impassive. He always wore the same indifferent mask when he looked at pictures of birds or when he was explaining defensive moves and where a human's weak points were. Bulma knew, however that if she watched him close she might see a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips when admiring a colorful bird or his brows might twitch or peak when she baffled him. She thought to herself, that the only one more unexcitable than Axle was Mojag. Even the Doctor, who seemed to be whittled from ice, would yell and his pale wrinkled face would flush red when the boys made him angry. Pierro, she had seen when she peeked into training sessions now and again, had a very unsettling grin, one that made her think of a cat that had just caught a mouse. When Pierro yelled at the boys, his high pitched bellow carried right through the door like a yowling cat's wail.

Axle planted his bulk on the floor in front of Bulma, his great big tree trunk legs folded in front of him.

Bulma played with the tattered hem of her dress as she spoke, "When I used to stay at the orphanage we used to earn allowances by working in the kitchen or the garden or cleaning the building. That's how I was able to buy these dresses and my first ever book of fairy tales." She smiled up at Axle as she recalled the not so distant past. "I used to read Cinderella over and over. I read it so much that I had begun to dream of being rescued by a handsome and caring prince who would buy as many books and dresses as I could ever want, but that all seems very silly now, doesn't it?" Her smile melted away and she looked down again at her frayed hem before looking back up at Axle, more solemn. "Do you think the Doctor would allow me to earn an allowance for my work?"

"I don't know. You could ask him."

Bulma shuddered at the idea of talking to the doctor.

"I guess."

"I could buy them for you."

Bulma blushed at his offer. "Yes, I know you would if I asked, but I won't. I promise to pay you back for the books you've bought me."

"You don't have to. I would not accept your repayment any way."

"Where do you get all of that money?" Bulma asked suddenly, her brows knitted in wondering.

Axle considered this question in silence.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, that was rude of me." She quickly apologized, but Axle showed no signs of being offended.

"What do you know about the Marines and the World Government? Have you read that new book?"

Bulma looked away in embarrassment. "Well, no. I dove into the one about the airships. I actually just finished it yesterday. I'm sorry, it's just that history seems so stale and boring."

Axle grunted a reply, which sounded like and amused scoff to Bulma. "When we used to live on Earth father was an arms developer. I don't remember much. I was only four at the time. He had a rival and back then they were competing for an important Marine contract."

"You don't remember the rival's name, do you?" Bulma asked.

Axle shook his head.

"I've been meaning to ask," Bulma began hesitantly, "In all of the stories I've read, the Pirates are bad guys, like bandits and thieves. And the Marines fight pirates so that would make _them_ good."

The past week Bulma had spent hours lying awake wondering about her status in life. She didn't feel like she was a bad person and Axle or Mojag didn't seem bad either, the other boys she was pretty sure which way they leaned, and the Doctor and his assistant Pierro? Well, she really didn't know what to feel about them. Some days she wished she had been left at the orphanage and other days she quite liked it here. Everything was confusing, and nothing really seemed to explain anything.

Axle looked at Bulma expectantly as her brows twitched in consideration and she nibbled on her lower lip.

"Are we bad guys?" she asked, slowly.

"I don't think so. I never really thought about it. I know that father has hated the Marines since the attack. He said it is their fault Mother is dead."

"The Marines attacked your family?" Bulma gasped.

"No. Pirates attacked father's rival. There was a Marine crew in West Town that night. They weren't supposed to be there until the next day; they were early. When the Pirates attacked Capsule Corporation the Marines went after them right away. They battled in the middle of town and many people were injured and killed. Mother's shop was in the path of a direct attack."

"That's terrible!" Bulma exclaimed. "But surely, it must have been an accident. Or, maybe it was a pirate that launched the attack."

"No!" Axle said, his voice was so loud and firm that Bulma flinched in surprise. She had never seen such a reaction from the gentle giant. Her eyes darted down to his large ham-like fists; they clenched so hard veins popped out against his pale skin. "I was there when it happened. I saw those Marine dogs attack recklessly. If they weren't there mother would have been fine."

"But," Bulma said cautiously, "the pirates attacked innocent people."

Axle grit his teeth and his brows twitched. "That doesn't excuse what they did. I won't forgive them nor will father."

Axle stewed silently for a long moment. All the while Bulma kept quiet for fear of setting him off by saying the wrong thing.

Having calmed his temper in a long silence, Axle spoke, "After that night father severed all ties with the Marines. He began working with various pirate crews in the area including the ones that attacked Capsule Corporation."

Bulma gasped.

"The attack was what ultimately lead the Marines to establish the base in West Town. The residents were outraged and frightened that such a thing could happen in their town. There weren't any survivors; all of the assistants, the Doctor and his wife, were killed."

Feelings warred inside Bulma. She was very sorry Axle's mother had been killed in the crossfire but she was also sad for the residents and employees of Capsule Corporation.

"They lied and we know it!" Axle shouted as he pounded the floor with his fist. The sound echoed in the cavernous cargo bay.

Bulma's heart leapt into her throat and for a fleeting moment she wondered if she should run. It was the first time she felt a little fearful of the hulking boy. Her voice was a small whisper as she asked hesitantly, "What do you mean 'they lied?'"

"Those dirty Marines. After the attack they blamed the civilian casualties on the pirates. It was dark and late at night, people were sleeping, no one had ever stepped forward as a witness. When daylight broke the Marines were celebrated as heroes to West Town."

Bulma stayed quiet and still, reluctant to voice her doubt that the Marines were bad.

Axle smirked, and turning to look at Bulma he said, "They think they're smart and that they can keep pirates away but as you've seen we still visit. Father's office and workshop is still there. That's where he meets with his clients. The pirates come into town secretly. They keep a low profile to avoid alerting the attention of the Marines."

Axle seemed to relax as he spoke on, "When father sells his plans he makes a huge profit. The pirates pay him in gold and jewels which can be easily exchanged for IGC in space, if you know where to go. That's where our money comes from."

"I'm a little confused," Bulma pondered, cautiously, "I haven't yet seen other planets, I know they exist and there are a few space stations we've come close to where I've seen other space ships from afar." As she spoke Bulma's face scrunched as she tried organized her thoughts. She crossed her arms over her chest, reaching up with her left she chewed on her thumb tip. "The technology out here is so advanced, but on Earth it isn't."

"The World Government does not allow outside technology."

"And yet they allow for a space port?"

"As I understand it The World Government had come to an agreement with the Galactic Patrol, who station ships nearby to keep the traffic coming into Earth to a minimum, as the World Government would prefer it. With trade under their control they can direct the flow of wealth into their pockets."

"But how is the doctor allowed to come and go from space?"

"You have a lot of questions this evening." Axle teased, chuckling.

Bulma blushed. "I'm sorry. I'm just so curious. All of this is new to me, it's fascinating and overwhelming."

"Last question and then we go to bed; I'm not a robot, so, I require sleep. Father operates under the radar as an 'independent trader.' This ship's certificate states that is it a cargo vessel owned by Gear Technologies, father's company on Earth. Because the vessel was purchased off of Earth it falls under the jurisdiction of the General Galactic Alliance and the Galaxy Patrol They are ones who control the space port. It does not fall under World Government control; that is just the way it was worked out in the agreement, as far as I know. Being a provisional member of the General Galactic Alliance, Earth stays protected from unfriendly forces like the Cold Empire, the Saiyan Empire and many other insanely strong alliances or other space pirates."

Bulma's head spun with the overload of information. There was so much that Axle knew that she did not. How did he know all of this, aside from being four years older than her? She really did underestimate him! He wasn't stupid at all. Her astonishment must have shown all over her face because Axle answered just what she was thinking.

"After mother died I was at father's side all the time. Everything I know comes from my being there with him when he boarded an unsanctioned exploratory vessel. I was there when he purchased the ship, and again when he made many of the deals that lead to his wealth." Axle then blushed, and he said shyly, "it may seem odd that I could not read well, but I stopped going to school when we made the ship our permanent home. Father made an effort to teach me some basics but I think his work ended up dominating his time. When he established an entire half of the cargo space as a lab space he really immersed himself in his projects."

Bulma's face lit up again as more questions formed.

"No I don't know what they are." Axle answered. He smiled and chuckled, a deep base sound. "I may not have been able to read well at first, but your transparent emotions allow me to read _you_ easier than a book."

Bulma could help but fall into a heated blush as she turned away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," She blurted out, "I'm sorry I ever thought you were dumb and I'm sorry for underestimating you. Please forgive me, Axle. I never meant to judge you so harshly. If you would rather not be my friend, I will understand."

Axle stood up and reached out a hand to help Bulma up of the floor. She looked up at him hesitatingly. His smile was warm and kind and showed no hint of insult or offense, nor did she see hints of evil. Part of her was confused by his ability to accept a pirate attack on a seemingly innocent family but condemn what was supposed to be benevolent intervention by the good guys.

"It's getting late Little Bluebird."

His face was too kind and as she reached out to take his large hand his grasp was gentle yet firm. He hoisted her up as if she weighed no more than a feather. For the time being she would push this bit of dissonance aside, shelve it like a book to be studied later. She smiled up at him.

"If I am a blue bird then you must be a big red cardinal, because your hair sticks up like a cardinal's tuft." She giggled.

Axle laughed as they left cargo bay and headed for the elevator, "cardinal. I like that."

.

.

"Ok, so if I just pop this panel out of place," Bulma mutter as she pried the mangled control panel with the plastic tool designed just for that purpose. Grunting as she strained, the charred panel gave way and she cried out in surprise.

According to the ship's manual she had found in the library, one of two on board, repair kits could be found in hidden compartments in the floor of the her storage closet-bedroom. After Bulma had finished her morning chores she had gone to the library as usual. In the half year she had been aboard the Asimov she still had not gotten through even half of the books. Most of them had long titles often with just as long subtitles. There were a lot of outdated volumes covering early space flight theory. Some of these books had charred leather covers and the authors name seemed to be scratched out as if with the blade of a knife. One of the most interesting was _Flight Theory and Aerodynamics as Adapted for Space Flight_ by Dr. T- B-. Whoever Dr. T.B. was his books made the most sense and when compared to how actual space flight worked his theories were the closest to being correct when compared to newer volumes explaining how actual space flight worked. Some books Bulma could not understand, they were written in strange languages with symbols rather than the letters she was used to. After a few hours of perusing she was able to find one book that had an identical twin written in the Earth language she knew. Those she took back to her closet-room to study side by side.

This afternoon, rather than reading, Bulma studied each title and scanned the pages of the publications the caught her attention. As she perused she found and entire shelf dedicated to the Asimov, this included an oversized folio of detailed ship plans, schematics for the multitude of systems that kept the ship running smoothly, various repair manuals for the engines, pumps, purifiers, scrubbers and even parts catalogues with listing for dealers on planets and waystations she had never heard of. She had hoped there were star maps in the library that could show her where these distant almost fantastical places were but all she found were old and outdated charts.

That was when the idea struck her. It didn't take long until she found the manual that detailed how to repair a control panel. She was so abuzz with excitement that the fact the all these manuals were in an alien language didn't deter her. The pictures were clear and detailed enough that she was sure this was a simple enough task to do. Not having to manually pull the door open and closed was enough of a motivation.

As she inspected the exposed wiring she only gave a passing thought to why no else had yet repaired the panel. The doctor spent most of his time in his lab doing who knew what. The job of piloting and communications seemed to be Pierro's job as he was nearly always on the bridge in front of the main control panel when he wasn't with the boys, who now spent the most of the day in the cargo bay.

Not once did Bulma think what she was doing was wrong. It never occurred to her that she should not be poking around in the ships wiring.

"Nothing actually looks broken, besides the panel," Bulma muttered as her eyes roved over wires and circuits. She caught sight of a flash of exposed and frayed copper wire. "It looks like the that wire is supposed to be connected to that plug-in looking thing but it must have gotten pulled out when the panel was crushed."

She pulled the plug object out from its seat. It was a small rectangular square of plastic with a copper prong sticking out on one end and at the other was a metal crimp. _Well_ , Bulma thought, _This is a super easy fix. All I need to do is slip this wire back into place and re-crimp it._ She pulled a screw driver from the tool box and separated the end of the crimp, then rolled the frayed ends of the wire to tame the loose strands. She then turned back to box in search of something to squeeze the metal ends together. She fished out a pair of needle nose pliers. With the wire slipped into the metal sheath she squeezed the pliers around the crimp and then inspected her work.

"I think that should do it." She said, satisfied.

With a little push she plugged the prong back into place and pressed the open button.

Nothing happened.

"Ok. Maybe it's not such an easy fix after all." Bulma sighed. She picked the manual up and stared at the page. "I guess _I_ need reading lessons now."

.

.

It was going to take more than one evening of study before she understood how to read in that alien language Bulma concluded as she fell backward on her bed, making a loud _whump_ against the cushioned boxes. The two books she had been studying lay at her still crossed legs. She sighed, starring at the ceiling, contemplating the crevices between panels, following the miniature canyons at right angles, this way, then that until the top of the shelf where she kept what little she owned had come into her view. A corner of book peaked out past the edge of the shelf, prompting Bulma to remember her earlier conversation with Axle.

She sat up, gathering the two manuals and exchanged them with the history book, thinking that it was about time for a break from language study to some lighter study.

_A Brief History of the World_ was a hefty book, but not nearly as big as the largest tomes in Gero's Library. It was dark blue, almost black leather with gold embossed lettering and decorative scrolling on the spine. The cover was comparatively simpler in style, the scrolling wrapped around the cover's border enclosing a cross with arms of equal length, its points each capped with a circle.

She flipped through the crisp pages until she reached the index, new book smell still clinging to each page wafting at her like the sprays from a perfume bottle, _eau de connaissance._ Under "W," she found the entry for "World Government," wanting to dive right into some answers she turned to the first set of pages.

" _In the name of Justice the Marines, then known as the Continental Maritime Guardians of Justice, were created by the directive of the 20 Royal Families under the supervision of the Five Elders, who thus assigned them the esteemed responsibility of maintaining peace and order. For over 800 years the Marines have proudly served as worldwide law enforcement with the ability to mobilize swiftly to regions lacking protection from the vast groups of treacherous criminals that threaten the livelihood of the common law abiding man._

_"Recent technological developments have given way for the advent of an airborne force. Within the last decade the Marines had been developing flying ships. Still in the theoretical stage a working model has yet to be revealed by the Marine Air Corp, which is still in its infancy._

_"Marine bases are located throughout the four seas of the world as well as within the Grand Line. Bases are often located in major port towns, these Marine Branches are identified numerically, currently 1 through 171. Bases within the Grand Line are known as Grand Line Branches and are identified by the letter 'G' preceding an accompanying number._

_"Marine tactics emphasize the importance of power in numbers, specialized training and loyalty to the pursuit of Justice. The unique culture of training underscores the importance of developing each Marine's potential and mastery of mind, body and weaponry. All Marine recruits receive training in hand to hand combat, and usage of the latest models of flint lock firearms and basic swordsmanship. Basic training begins for every Marine recruit as a cabin boy in order to build character and discipline._

_"It is implicit that the Marines do not take the place of local police forces. The Marines are tasked with maintaining world order and protecting the public from high profile and highly dangerous criminals that threaten the overall peace of the world at large. The duties of keeping common criminals at bay falls within the jurisdiction of local law enforcement, however the Marines are not above lending a hand in upholding municipal and community Justice where needed._

_"In maintaining Justice it is duty of the Marines to pay out bounties to the unofficially sanctioned Bounty Hunters who bring in live, or in some unavoidable cases deceased, criminals. As long as these unorthodox independently operating groups stay within the confines of the law they remain allies to Justice."_

Bulma yawned. Her eyes felt heavy and droopy. Part of her wanted to read on but most of the rest of her wanted to sleep. She scanned the next few paragraphs, her eyes catching at words that stood out here and there, the Marine motto, more mentions of "Justice" with the "J" capitalized, always. There was a description of the Marine flag, official colors, insignia and uniform. When she got to an overview of the kind of weaponry they employed her interest piqued, but it was mainly vague descriptions of flintlocks and archaic cannons. Her interest was especially aroused at the mention of something called "devil fruit," but no description was given.

"Well, that's not fair," Bulma muttered, wondering what was the point of dangling the mysterious fruit before the reader. Come to think of it, why mention fruit in a section about weaponry?

She yawned again, and continued reading but fell asleep somewhere in the middle of an explanation of the Marine ranking system.


	4. Romance Dawns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, it's been a while. A big thank you goes out to my beta Froglady15! I won't keep you waiting, here is chapter 4. I need to go work on chapter 5, eh, or maybe the next part of Thunderstruck, um, or maybe a drabble post... Please enjoy and do leave kudos and comments if you do.

Five read throughs told her diddly-squat about the Marines and the World Government. She knew the official story on who they were and how they came to be, but Bulma was left feeling something was missing, that there was more to be known.

Her mind usually wandered as she cleaned; simple, repetitive tasks allowed her to replay things, books she'd read, interactions with others, or the training sessions with Axle. Bulma gathered up the kitchen garbage, bag rustling as she pulled it from the bin, tied its ends in a knot and stuffed the mass into the incinerator chute. Once opened, a vacuum sucked the garbage down into the crawl space sandwiched between the cargo bay and main deck, there the garbage fed the boiler that supplied the ship's hot water system.

As she loaded breakfast plates and utensils into the washer, she reflected on the Marines. They seemed benign enough; they were Earth's heroes, established by the World Government hundreds of years ago. Bulma recalled how Libroso the bookstore clerk had an obvious enthusiasm for the Marines and compared that to how Axle had showed frightening hatred for them.

A loud slap on the tabletop shattered her musing. She spun around to see Gero looming before her at the end of the galley table, on top of which sat a heap of soft-cover books. The old man looked as sour as ever. All thoughts of Marines and the World Government drained away like water flushing down the commode.

"These are the manuals for the Asimov," Gero said, without preamble. "They're kept in the maintenance cabinet on the bridge."

Bulma's eyes darted to the cover on the top of the stack. To her delight she could read the title, as well all the others along the spines on the books below the top. The clear delight painted upon her face quickly melted into horror as she came to a realization.

She asked hesitantly, "How did you know?"

"Do you expect me not to notice a child tinkering with things on my ship?" Gero asked, though his tone invited no answers. "I am aware of how you spend your time in the library. I know of Axle's juvenile attempts to train you."

Gero stood stock still, with his hands clasped behind his back, his chin elevated, looking down his nose at her. Bulma was already a small child, shorter than Gero, but the way he looked at her made her feel tiny. Although each declaration felt like a harsh jab to her chest, she did not allow herself shrink or wilt under his arctic glare.  _I'm not going to cry anymore_ , she reminded herself. Gero went on.

"Despite not having formal schooling, you seem to have an innate drive to learn. I attribute that to your unique background. You have not had any authority directing your study nor a schedule to dictate you aside from my having told you to keep certain rooms tidy. You have taken to your tasks compliantly and complete them in a timely manner. Unlike Gin and Kenworth you show a maturity beyond your outward appearance." As Gero spoke it seemed he was holding a conversation more with himself than with Bulma; he seemed surprised by her, but unsurprised at the same time. Gero broke away eye contact first; he paced around the room, slowly, hands still clasped behind him.

"I never considered adopting a girl child. Pierro scoffed when I brought you back. 'What good is a weak and silly little creature?'" Gero's eyes shifted to Bulma for a second as he continued his slow pace. "The moment I set my eyes on you I could see. You hold a certain shrewdness, a bold spirit and a hunger for knowing. I have seen that proven in last few months," Gero stopped again, hovering over her. "Had you not lived up to my initial perception, child, I would not have hesitated in putting you out the airlock."

Bulma sucked in a quick breath, her eyes widening and her skin prickling with goosebumps.

"Tomorrow we dock once more on Earth. You will help Axle and Mojag resupply as usual. Unlike previous trips you are familiar with, we will be docked for a week; perhaps more. I have research to conduct. After that I will personally walk you through ship maintenance. I expect to have even less time to devote to it than I already do."

Gero turned to leave. As he reached the doorway Bulma scraped up as much courage as she could muster.

"An allowance, sir," she said, in what she hoped was a steady and confident voice.

Gero stopped in his tracks but did not turn around.

"It's only fair," Bulma stated, a little less loud, with far more whine to it than she would have liked.

"So it is," said Gero. He deliberated, in silence, for a long moment, never turning to acknowledge Bulma. "50 credits per week." He paused, as if waiting for her to say something. When she said nothing else, he went on, "Do well, and I may consider increasing the amount. The more valuable you prove to be the more I will pay you, after all a crew brings in what it is worth."

Gero explained no further and he continued to walk away.

"Thank you, sir!" Bulma called after him, as he disappeared beyond the threshold, not caring if he cared for her appreciation. "I'll do my best!"

.

.

The roller coaster train ride into West Town was just as dazzling this time as it was the last, even if the conductors seemed blasé. At the station, Gero handed an odd snail each to Axle and Kenworth. He warned that everyone should be ready to hastily disembark at the signal; during this announcement he pinned Kenworth and Gin with his icy glare.

Gin and Kenworth were gone as soon as the old men set off for the Doctor's office-workshop. Bulma was not worried about the boys' destination so long as they stayed far away from her. Even with Axle's training she wasn't sure if she could hold her own against even one of them for very long.

All afternoon she helped Axle and Mojag with supplying. They bought food, first aid supplies, and toiletries and then stored them in what seemed to be an abandoned building on a lonely back street, away from the bustling square. Bulma concluded that this too belonged to the Doctor, as Axle had produced a key for it.

The sun was still high in the air when they were done. Bulma was sure she could find her way back to this lonely alley if the need arose.

"I want to browse the bookstore." She said to Axle, hopefully.

Axle nodded, "I am not surprised, but I cannot accompany you. I'm not so sure you should-"

"It's only the book store," Bulma rebuked, "What could possibly happen there? Nothing ever happens in West Town. This place is as dull as it was when I left it."

"Dull, says the child, who has never experienced true hardship," said Mojag. The tall warrior's unexpected assertion seemed to steal Bulma's speaking ability away, leaving her in stunned silence. She had never heard him speak so many words before.

He sauntered away, and sat upon an empty crate not saying anything more.

"I-he-what?" Bulma sputtered.

"If you wish to go, you may, but I cannot." He pushed crisp Zeni bills at her, disregarding Mojag's odd statement.

Bulma hesitated as she reached to take the money, but reminded herself that she could now pay him back eventually when her allowance from Dr. Gero built up. She bit her lip, looking first at the bills, then up to Axle. After short consideration she nodded, accepting the Zeni and tucking it away into her dress pocket. Conscience tamed, she turned to run but stopped and threw herself into his legs, giving him a quick hug before dashing off.

.

.

The sun beamed in the sky, and it seemed happy in its unrelenting brightness. Just outside of town couples picnicked, on the dock old men fished and hulking vessels loomed, their furled sails billowing in the warm sea breeze. However none of that warmth reached the child within the confines of Southey's Book Emporium.

Every history book she skimmed through seemed to say no more than the book she walked away with the last time. All of them were skimpy on detail and ambiguous in story.

"That is so strange," Bulma muttered as she closed the book in hand and turned to grab the next. She bumped into something hard and unyielding and felt herself being propelled back as if ricocheting off of a solid wall, but before she could hit the ground she felt hands grab her, and hold her steady.

"I'm sorry. I didn't see you down there," said a voice as even as the sea on the most serene day. The woman that stood before her was tall. As the woman crouched her black leather coat creaked as it crinkled around her trim waist. "I see you are interested in history. I am too" she said to Bulma, as if confessing a sin. Her smile was warm, assuring and seemed to hold no deceit.

Up close Bulma could see the woman was an adult but still young. Her face was flawless, her hair as black as midnight. Under the woman's white cowboy hat the dark eyes, were large and shrewd; they seemed the kind to miss no detail. "Do you want to know a secret?" the mystery woman asked, her eyes darting left, then right, looking out to make sure that no one was near enough to hear what she was about to say.

A blanket of apprehension dropped around Bulma, and she clutched the book in her hands a little closer. No adult ever confided in her, especially one that was a complete stranger. "I can show you a book that has far more information in it than that one."

Bulma's eyes darted to the bear-eared shop-keeper. He was busy shelving books in the opposite corner. Confident his fuzzy brown ears were far enough away, Bulma whispered back, the urgency in her tone surprising her, "Yes, please."

The tall woman stood up and held out a hand, eyes flicking toward the heavy history book Bulma held. Bulma handed it over and the woman left it on the counter as they made way for the exit.

"No purchases today, Miss Bulma?" Libroso asked, hint of surprise obvious in his voice.

"No sir, maybe next time. Goodbye, sir."

As they left the store Bulma suddenly thought maybe it wasn't so wise to follow a complete stranger. What if this woman was a pirate- a real  _bad_  pirate, and she would kidnap her and sell her into slavery. What if she was a mountain bandit and wanted to use her as ransom bait? What if-

A tattered, dog-eared paper back was placed into her hands. The cover was crude and unabashed in its intention to lure a depraved sort of reader. A handsome and roguish, bearded pirate embraced a lady with bosoms nearly falling out of her dress; their gazes met in heated passion as if they either wanted to eat each other whole or, something else, that something else being something Bulma could not name.

"I know it may look questionable, but do not let the cover deter you. This is the most historically accurate tale surrounding the subject I have yet seen." The tall woman smiled warmly.

People rushed around the two as Bulma held the paperback in hand; its musty smell filled her nose. The cover was soft, well-worn around the edges, and she could see creases that indicated the owner had no qualms about abusing the publication for the sake of saving the last place read.

"Okay," Bulma said hesitantly, now concluding that the tall woman was neither pirate nor bandit but maybe an escaped asylum patient. "I don't think I'm interested in buying this, ma'am."

"It's yours to keep," The woman said as she glanced around. "It's served its purpose for me and I have it memorized. I was no older than you when I acquired it."

A white flash caught both their eyes. There on the street corner across from the bookstore, stood two men in pristine uniforms. On their matching white billowing capes in large, bold black Bulma read the symbols for "Justice." Marines.

"Maybe we'll meet again someday," said the woman and then she quickly disappeared into the crowd.

"I didn't get your name," Bulma muttered. She looked down at the book in hand, at its title in extravagant curling red script,  _Romance Dawn_.

.

.

Bulma flipped through the worn pages of the paperback as she aimlessly made her way up the busy main square. She looked up, periodically, to keep from bumping into anymore strange people. The closer she got to the town center, the more crowded it became. West Town denizens rushed past her in the midst of their daily errands, carrying shopping baskets, selling fruit and bread, pushing carts and yelling out their wares and prices. Harried men in stiff looking suits scuttled purposefully past and at least once a Marine stalked by, paying no attention to her at all, leaving Bulma to wonder if he had even seen her.

Feeling the need to escape the bustle, she took a seat at a wooden table in front of a small café. The smell of sweet baked goods filled the air.

"There's no author's name anywhere," Bulma said, quietly. She sighed, looking up from the book, taking notice of her soundings and suddenly remembering that she was not going back to the ship tonight. She figured as long as she made it back to the storage facility before sundown she'd be fine. At that point she realized she didn't know where she was going to spend the night. Were they going to sleep among the provisions they purchased today? She didn't recall seeing any blankets or cots as they stacked boxes and packages earlier. Would it be cold tonight?

A girlish titter caught her ear and broke her train of thought. At the next table a boy sat close to a girl. They looked a few years older than her, in their teens and seemed not to notice Bulma.

"This is my favorite café, they have the most scrumptious tea cakes here," the girl said, placing her hand on the boy's and leaning in as she spoke. She bit her lip before continuing, and said hesitatingly, "but, they  _are_  a tad pricy. I don't get to indulge as much as I'd like." She pouted and pulled her hand away from his, reaching for an errant strand of golden hair by her ear.

Bulma watched, transfixed. The boy quickly seized her run-away hand and he held it in both of his as if holding on the reins of flighty pony. "I'd buy the entire store for you if I could."

The girl's free hand clutched at her chest. Her bold, v-cut blouse framed a golden locket that dangled above generous cleavage. Bulma noticed the boy's eyes glance at her chest momentarily. "Until then," he offered, "will you accept tea and a single cake, my sweet?"

"Oh, that would be lovely," the girl cooed as she fluttered her long lashes.

"Wait here." He darted into the shop. As the girl reached into her purse, she noticed Bulma watching and sent her small, friendly, wave. "They're  _so_  easy to manipulate. Just you wait until you're fully equipped." She winked and gave her chest a not-so-subtle squeeze with her upper arms as she checked her make-up in a compact mirror.

Embarrassed at being caught starring, Bulma opened her book and pretended to read.

The girl put her compact away as the boy came out of the shop, and took his seat. Shortly after a server came out with a laden tray and set two mugs in front of the pair, poured tea then set a small plate of something colorful before the girl. "Enjoy." She said, smiling, and then went back inside.

The girl squealed in excitement before cutting into her confection as the boy sipped his tea, sporting a somewhat weary but satisfied grin.

Bulma's stomach gave a hungered lurch. If they weren't going back to the ship, where were they going to eat dinner? Remembering the zeni Axle had given her earlier, she wondered if she was on her own in procuring a meal. Bulma looked into the café window. On an array of sloped shelving were numerous colorful deserts. There were pies, cakes with different kinds of icing, cookies, tarts and candied fruits. This time her stomach gave an audible growl. Not giving it another thought she went into the shop and up to the display counter. Immediately her eyes fell upon a platter of glistening, bright red fruit. They had little tufts of green on their wide end and were covered in a brown icing like layer on the rest of its form down to the rounded point.

"Fancy the chocolate dipped strawberries, dear?"

Bulma looked up. Behind the counter was a plump, middle-aged woman in a yellow and pink checked dress, over which she wore a cream colored apron with squared frills along the edges. Her hair was as pink as bubble gum, and curly and poofy like cotton candy.

"Yes, ma'am." Bulma replied; etiquette lesson from the orphanage having been drilled into her she never forgot to treat adults accordingly.

"You can call me Madam Battenburg, dearie."

Tucking her paperback under her arm, Bulma reached into her dress pocket and produced the folded wad of zeni. She counted ten bills each marked 20 zeni. She gasped. Oh kami! Axle had given her so much!

"Um," Bulma murmured, eyeing the sumptuous red fruit, "how much for all of them"

.

.

Bulma made her way back to the storage facility, book in one hand and a pink and yellow checked paper bag almost half as big as she was in the other hand. The sun hung low in the west, casting the alleyway in shadow, making things look different enough that she began to doubt if she had gone down the right street. There were no boxes in sight, and neither Axle nor Mojag were anywhere to be seen.

Bulma's heart lurched in her chest, she could feel the icy cold claws of panic prickling at her. Clutching the sweets bag, she scurried back the way she came and turned the corner. She must have just taken a wrong turn. The warehouse must be the next street over. Shadows engulfed her as she jogged between the buildings. When she came out onto the next street nothing looked familiar. She looked left, right, backwards and squinted into the darkened ally in front of her. She knew she followed her steps right back to the same street. Where were they? She made her way up to the next street, and then the next. Her hands gripped the sweets bag strings, cold and clammy, her heart thudded in her chest, making her breath come and go in short bursts. It was only because she was running and it was getting cold she tried to tell herself.

Maybe if she made her way back to the main square she could start over from the front of the bookstore. There was still a bit of light left. It was okay. It was okay.

She blinked rapidly, and chewed at her lip. The sounds of her shoes scraping across the gravel seemed too loud in the empty alley. Bulma squeaked as a small shadow dashed across the far wall. At the end of the street she didn't recognize any of the buildings.

She swallowed back at the building lump in her throat, and pleaded quietly, "Oh, Kami, where am I?" Her tiny voice cracked.

A large hand, gripped like a vice on her shoulder and she screamed.

"Whoa, whoa, kiddo." A loud, unfamiliar male voice boomed. Dread settled over her as a large Marine turned her to face him. "You okay, squirt? You look lost."

Bulma's lip trembled as she tried to speak, "I-"

"Bulma!" Axle thundered from across the block. He strode across the graveled streets, his heavy boots crunching loudly.

Bulma felt her self being lifted into the air, the huge Marine's arms cradling her protectively.

"Bulma, I have been looking for you," Axle shouted, relieved. "Give her to me," he demanded, arms out ready to take her as soon as he was close enough.

Bulma felt herself being yanked back. "Hey there, kid, can I help you?"

Axle stopped dead in his tracks. His teeth gritted as he glared at the young Marine, clearly taking offense at being called kid by someone who looked no older than he.

Bulma squirmed in the Marine's grasp. "Axle!" She shouted, "I- where were you?"

The Marine held her fast.

"Let go of me," she demanded, flinching; the pain of his grip on her shoulders forced the ingrained politeness out of her. "Let me go! It's just Axle."

The Marine, pulled Bulma close to him and whispered, "Look kiddo, if this guy is bothering you in any way, just let me know. It's okay. I'm on your side. I'm here to protect you."

Bulma felt confused. The Marine didn't seem to be a bad guy. Axle wasn't either, but something about the whole situation was all wrong and she didn't know the right way to handle it. She didn't know what she was supposed to say. She tried what she thought was obvious. "That's just Axle. He's-" Bulma's speech faltered. What  _was_ Axle to her? Her friend? Her shipmate?

The Marine's grip remained firm. Across the alley, Axle, sneered, his normally pale face was flushed red, muscles in his jaw twitched and veins in his fists and forehead stood out. Bulma sent him a pleading look, as if to ask him to stay calm and not lose it.

She turned back to the Marine. Upon closer inspection, the Marine was probably no older than Axle, maybe only 18; that was the minimum age for full duty recruitment after all. The Marine boy was too strong; even with what little training she had there was no way to overpower him. "Let me go!" She pleaded, squirming. "It's just Axle!"

"Kiddo," the Marine whispered, "It's okay."

Bulma felt conflicted. The Marine wasn't outright rude, but Bulma felt he was being unreasonably stupid. "Axle is," Bulma hesitated. What the heck was Axle to her? At the orphanage she only knew the other girls. The only time she ever saw boys was during the infrequent holidays when both the boys' and girls' schools would meet. All of her girl classmates were referred to as her sisters; the teachers were aunt This, or aunt That. And the boys were-

"Axle is my brother!" Bulma pleaded. "Please, let me go."

The Marine's grip seemed to relax, just a bit.

"Look, Red," said the Marine to Axle, "I don't want any trouble. According to the law, I'm supposed to ask for legal documentation for a non-relational minor."

Axle kept quiet. The muscles in his jaw twitched, as if he were holding back all that he wanted to say. Bulma had to think fast. As much as she hated Gin and Kenworth, she would never be able to learn or earn as much at the orphanage. And, at this point, she really was beginning to think of Axle as her brother. She just needed to think of a way to get out of this guy's grasp.

Bulma thought back to the girl from earlier,  _they're so easy to manipulate_. Bulma looked up at the Marine boy. His eyes were clear, bright and a soft and kind brown. His sharp jaw line was smooth as if a grown man's hair had yet to grow there but his figure spoke a different tune. He was very solid, and it made Bulma feel very unsettled in admitting that she didn't mind him holding her. But, she needed to be let go. She thought back, again, to the girl she saw earlier and she pouted up at the young Marine.

"Please, sir, let me go with my older brother Axle," she batted her eyes like she had seen the tea shop girl do. "I'm so sorry I got lost and caused you trouble." Bulma leaned into him and looked up at him with fluttering eyelashes.

The Marine reeled back from Bulma a little, an uncertain look on his clean cut features. He set her down, holding fast to her shoulders; he kneeled and met her eye to eye. "Look kiddo, I'll let you go, but if you ever need help just find your way to Marine base 171 at the docks. You can't miss it; it's the largest structure in West Town." The Marine gave Axle a side eyed glance. "You remind me of my kid sister, and if Red over there is really your brother, you tell him he needs to do a better job of keeping you safe."

He let go of her.

Bulma beamed at him and curtsied. "Thank you, sir." And then she trotted toward Axle. Axle reached down and scooped her up and placed her on his wide shoulders, Bulma hugged him tightly.

"I don't see why you hate them," she said as she turned to wave at the Marine, who still seemed uncertain. "They really aren't bad at all."

Axle grumbled but said nothing as they walked back to the storage building. There they met Mojag and made their way further into the town. As they walked, the buildings became no less dense; sparse light from the main street seeped in, casting everything in a sinister gloom. A cat yowled in the distance and something clattered setting off a series of dog barks the chilled Bulma to the bone. She clutched Axle tighter and asked, whispering, for fear of something monstrous hearing her. "Where are we going?"

Axle answered, not in a whisper, but in a low tone that did nothing assuage her fear, "We are going to father's office. Their ship left hours ago and we will be staying there until they come back."


End file.
